


Family Life

by NicoNoble



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Domestic Violence, Dubious Consent, Forced Feminization, Forced Relationship, Gaslighting, Hero Complex, M/M, Male Character of Color, Oral Sex, Other, Possessive Behavior, Rape, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Stalking, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicoNoble/pseuds/NicoNoble
Summary: Michael Reyes has been a single dad for two and a half years. He works private security for his ex-father-in-law's company along with his ex-wife. He has a three year old daughter, Mikey, who likes to bring home strays.Her favorite stray is twenty-three year old Erin Archer, who's always sporting a new bruise or bandage. Erin let's her dress him up and plays whatever games she wants, but he always looks like he's about to cry.Michael didn't save his marriage. He didn't fight for his wife. But maybe, just maybe, he might fight for the boy who lives across the street.





	1. Across the Street

**Author's Note:**

> Contains rape scenes, some graphic some not, featuring a fifteen year old.

Michael Reyes typically starts his day the same way. Every morning he grabs a cup of coffee, lets his daughter's nanny Laura in, kisses little Mikey's forehead and ruffles her long brown hair, and heads to work. Last night Laura had quit, so he'd called in to his secretary to put out an ad and shuffle his morning meetings along. He's finished his coffee and started making breakfast when he hears a knock at the door. 

He answers and sees a boy, college student judging by the beat up green backpack slung over one shoulder, who looks him up and down before shoving a familiar brunette in pink princess pajamas towards him. "Michaela?" 

Mickey sticks her tongue out, scowling. 

"Found her playing with the strays outside my building." The kid shrugs. "Figured I'd bring her back before something bad happened. Where's Laura? You're usually gone before I get up." 

"Laura quit." Michael grabs Mikey. "Get inside and get ready for daycare." 

Mikey runs inside, slams her bedroom door, and he hears her throw something. 

The kid raises an eyebrow. "Well, uh, the kittens should be gone tonight so hopefully she won't be tempted again. If I see her I'll bring her back though. Laura said she was an escape artist, but six times this week is a little much." 

Michael appreciates what this kid's done, really, but he's starting to piss him off. The judgement in his tone is obvious. 

"Not a surprise at her age though. Curiousity and all that. My Ma had plenty of trouble with me at that age. Oh, anyway, have a nice day Mr. Reyes. And, sorry if I overstepped, but I told Mikey she could get really sick if one of the kittens bit or scratched her." He smiles, boyishly, and looks even younger. 

"Does she do this often?" 

The boy's eyes go wide. "Shit, almost every day since they were born. Once or twice a week before then. Laura didn't tell you? I mean, how else would I know where to bring her? I caught her on my fire escape a couple months ago. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Haven't been able to shake her since. I don't really mind, gives me a break from my homework, but it's kinda dangerous. You hear all kindsa shit about kids alone in the city. Anyway, I've got class in ten and a fifteen minutes to bike ride, so excuse me but-"

Michael stares at him and he stays still. "Mikey, are you dressed?" 

Mikey appears a moment later in purple tights, a green tutu, a yellow blouse, and orange sneakers. "Yes, papa." 

"I'll give you a ride to school." 

 

The boy sits, fidgeting in the passenger seat. Mikey is busy playing on her tablet. 

"What's your name?" Michael asks, staring at the red light and willing it to change. 

"Erin, sir, Erin Archer." The boy, Erin, checks his phone. "You might know my brother. He does handyman sh--stuff in your building. Mason?" 

He vaguely recalls a tall blond man with the same wide green eyes as the boy in his passenger seat. "Yeah, Mason, I remember." He also remembers how Mason always has his knuckles wrapped and the peeking out of a bruise under the kid's collar catches his eye. Something tells him Mason isn't the kind of guardian kids like. He also remembers how soft the boy's grip was on Mikey. Scared he'd hurt her. "What's your major?" 

"Oh, uh, English. Focus on writing, for now. I'm supposed to transfer into uh, comp lit next year. PhD. I just finished my second round of language courses to get in. Oh, uh, comp lit requires you to be bi- or multi- langual." He looks emberassed. 

"Why?" Michael wonders aloud and the light finally turns. 

"Lots a' translations 'n stuff. I do Russian and Japanese. Japanese was more for pleasure though. No offense to Spanish, of course, but everyone takes Spanish. Only language my high school offered." 

"I don't speak Spanish." 

Erin flushes, hard. "Sh--sorry, sorry, shouldn't assume."

Michael wuffs out a laugh. The boy has somekind of predisposition to putting his foot in his mouth and it's actually kind of adorable. "It's fine. My parents never taught me. It's a common assumption. I actually speak French, it pays off in my line of work to be bilangual." 

Erin smiles. "Wow! That's so cool, I always wanted to take French, but it's way to, my advisor called it winding, for me to wrap my head around. I'm supposed to avoid languages with a similar alphabet to English to, because I tend to mix 'em up." He laughs. "My mom was way into Latin. She could translate most Latin languages just from that. Probably why I got into Comp Lit in the end." 

 

It's four days later, on Saturday, when Erin comes knocking again. He's still asleep, it isn't even 6 O'clock in the morning, and someone's knocking. He sees Erin, glances down at the sleepy eyed three year old at his feet, and sighs. 

Erin looks absolutely exhausted and Michael pointedly ignores his black eye. It's swollen shut. Poor kid doesn't look like he's gotten any sleep. 

Mikey doesn't release Erin's hand. In fact, she pushes past her father and pulls the college student inside. "Erin! My 'oom!" She drags him into her room and proceeds to force a crown on his head and get out her tea set. 

Erin sighs, dramatically, and glances at Michael. Michael doesn't move to toss him out and really, he's way to exhausted to argue with Mikey. 

Erin leaves not long after, when Mikey passes out asleep on her floor. 

Michael doesn't say a word.

 

And they settle into that routine while Mikey runs off all of her nannies. She'll bring Erin, often bearing some wound or other, home. Michael finishes his work in another room. Sometimes he thinks the boy's gonna cry, but he just smiles. Michael installs a lock on her window. She just leaves through the front door while he's sleeping. 

"Mikey?" He asks, while she brushes a doll's hair on the couch beside him. "Why do you keep sneaking out and bringing Erin over? You could just ask and I'd take you to get him." 

"Mas'in gets up a 'ix." She lisps, not pausing with her doll. "Is cold and 'rin outside on the 'scape. 's always cryin' till 'e sees me. 'lurgies." She snorts. "He says it's 'lurgies but that sounds like bologna." 

 

He mentions Erin offhandedly to the manager of the apartment. She sighs. "That kid can't control his motor mouth for anything, cusses like a sailor, fighting all the time. But he's a hard worker. If any of the girls cancel at the hotel my sister calls him in. And I pay him to clear out apartments before perspective owners come in. It's a damn shame he's stuck with that brother of his. Mason's great with a wrench, but he can't stand unnecessary chatter. Surprised the kid still has that foot in mouth problem, the tongue lashing he gets." She laughs. "Never heard anything like it. He pops off with random facts that loosely tie into a conversation so often half the time it completely derails the whole thing, but he's a good kid." 

"Mikey likes him. She keeps finding ways to sneak past me and go find him." Michael drops his rent check in the pile on her desk. "Sometimes he stays and let's her put makeup on him and play teaparty."

"Sounds like him." She snorts. "I know Mason doesn't like it, but it's pretty obvious where that boy's proclivities lay, even if I didn't have a friend who spotted him at a drag bar. Poor kid has to turn to the red for any kind of advice." 

 

Mikey refuses to go see her mother until he promises to check on Erin. So, late after work on Friday, nearly sunset, he heads across the street. Mikey told him which apartment it was. He goes to knock and he hears it. Sobbing, begging. 

"Mason please, please stop please-"

Flesh on flesh, a slick squelching. 

Michael makes it outside before he pukes.

 

Mikey comes back from her mother's the next week, while he's still trying to figure out what to do. It's another who weeks before she brings Erin by. When she falls asleep for her nap he stops Erin before the boy can leave. 

"It's none of my business, either way, but if you don't like what he's doing then you should report it." Michael says, blocking the door way. "I don't think you like it. I heard you." 

Erin goes red. "No, you've got it wrong-"

"It explains a lot. Why most of your bruises aren't all that damaging. They're circumstantial. He doesn't need to hit you, he just does it because he can or because you fight back or say something stupid."

Poor kid looks like he's about to shatter. "I'm fine." 

"Kid, you're twenty-four and a three year old is trying to save your life. You're not fine."

 

 


	2. The Fire Escape

 

 

Some mornings he doesn't slip out before Mason's alarm. If he's lucky Mason will order him to make breakfast, maybe slot himself against his back after his shower, demand a kiss. If he's not he'll get all of that after he's fucked, hard and painful, minimal lubrication. The mornings he does get out are usually after bad nights, where he can't sleep, where he's covering bruises with long sleeved t-shirts and jeans, with carpet burn thrown in for fun. The ones where he doesn't though, sometimes Mason was sober and dinner was done on time and he's almost kind when he pins him and takes him apart. He hasn't fought since he was fifteen, since he'd been hiding bruises and cuts and a perpetually sore asshole for six months and decided just to give in. Once a week when Mason spent the night after family dinners turned to daily, sometimes hourly, after their mother died and he finished freshman year and he ended up in Mason's apartment with nowhere else to go. He thinks, maybe, one day he'll get a job across the country and leave this behind. 

Today though, today he's sitting on the fire escape watching a little girl play with the stray kittens in the box and the bruises and the blood don't matter half as much as the cute little girl giggling at the kittens. 

 

He returns her to Mr. Reyes, Laura's boss, for the first time. Normally it's Laura. She looked frazzled the first few times, but eventually she figured out that Mikey had a thing for tracking Erin down. Apparently Laura hadn't told Mr. Reyes about his daughter's idea of a fun time.  

"Michaela?" 

Mickey sticks her tongue out, scowling. 

"Found her playing with the strays outside my building." He shrugs. "Figured I'd bring her back before something bad happened. Where's Laura? You're usually gone before I get up." 

"Laura quit." Mr. Reyes grabs Mikey. "Get inside and get ready for daycare." 

Mikey runs inside, slams her bedroom door, and can be heard throwing something solid against the wall.

He raises an eyebrow. Mikey normally doesn't react like. "Well, uh, the kittens should be gone tonight so hopefully she won't be tempted again. If I see her I'll bring her back though. Laura said she was an escape artist, but six times this week is a little much." 

Mr. Reyes looks a little pissed. Maybe it's his tone. He knows his tone is always fucking wrong.

"Not a surprise at her age though. Curiousity and all that. My Ma had plenty of trouble with me at that age. Oh, anyway, have a nice day Mr. Reyes. And, sorry if I overstepped, but I told Mikey she could get really sick if one of the kittens bit or scratched her." He smiles.

"Does she do this often?" Mr. Reyes relaxes a bit.

Erin feels his eyes widen. "Shit, almost every day since they were born. Once or twice a week before then. Laura didn't tell you? I mean, how else would I know where to bring her? I caught her on my fire escape a couple months ago. Nearly gave me a heart attack. Haven't been able to shake her since. I don't really mind, gives me a break from my homework, but it's kinda dangerous. You hear all kindsa shit about kids alone in the city. Anyway, I've got class in ten and a fifteen minutes to bike ride, so excuse me but-"

Mr. Reyes stares at him and he stays still. "Mikey, are you dressed?" 

Mikey appears a moment later in purple tights, a green tutu, a yellow blouse, and orange sneakers. "Yes, papa." 

"I'll give you a ride to school." 

 

Mason's waiting for him after school. He doesn't even have a chance to start dinner before his backpack is on the floor and he's being tossed on the couch. He's used to it. Falls apart easy, let's himself live with it. Shame eats at him every time, but it doesn't matter. Mason cums, inside, as usual. He cleans himself out, makes dinner, and pretends everything is fine. Mason's near silent and he aches to fill the silence, but he's learned about idle chatter. 

_If your mouth is so lonely, how about I fill it up?_

And god, if oral isn't worse then just lying there and taking it because he's expected to recipricate. He'd rather spend his days as Mason's personal pillow princess then have to actively engage in it. Sometimes he cums. Sometimes he doesn't. Sometimes he's left rock hard and wanting. It's not about him, it's about Mason. Just like dinner and TV and the apartment being clean is about Mason. 

 

Mikey distracts him. Invents her own little games, smiles so sweet, tea parties and makeup, and Mason does his best to ruin it. He comes home, washes lipstick and to much blush off and Mason tosses him a couple of bags from the mall the next day. It's panties and lipstick and eyeshadow and mascara and a dress that shouldn't fit, but it does. It's having his pussy fucked, because if he wants to be a girl he'd better learn to take it like one, and he never makes that mistake again. Mason tore the dress and the underwear was ruined. He tosses the lipstick and mascara, but keeps the eyeliner. 

 

Mason's working late. Doesn't get in until after three. To tired to wake him up and fuck him. He spent the night fantasizing about Mr. Reyes. Being loved cared for and god, if the man was protective of him, fucking saved him. 

He gets off on it, on the idea of a man Mason's age treating him kindly. Of course life has to fucking ruin it.

 

Mason's pissed and drunk, a bad combination. Erin strips with shaky fingers the moment Mason quirks his fingers. He's tossed back on the carpet. Mason is to out of control to make it to the couch.

Dry. God, he hates it when Mason goes dry and he's bleeding, fuck the carpet is gonna be a mess. 

"Mason please, please stop please-" He sobs before Mason threads his fingers in his hair and pushes his face into the carpet. Just hurts him because he can. A reminder that this isn't...whatever he tells himself in the middle of the night so he can sleep. 

"Shut the fuck up!" Mason snarls, pistoning his hips. 

 

* * *

 

_It's none of my business, either way, but if you don't like what he's doing then you should report it._

He's shaking on the bathroom tile. He wants to puke. Reyes knows. And Reyes knows he doesn't want it and god, the man wants him to report it, like anyone would believe him that Mason does it. That he's to scared to leave, scared Mason will kill him or worse or god. 

And that's where he is when Mason gets home, finds him on the bathroom floor, and drags him into a sitting position. "Christ, Erin, what the fuck? I come home expecting dinner and a good lay and I get you fucking what, freaking out. Seriously, snap the fuck out of it." 

Erin shakes harder, if anything, and Mason smacks him. "C'mon, I'll order pizza. Then I'll spend an hour just opening you up. I've got tomorrow off, I can stay up fucking you all night." 

 

Pizza tastes like ashes. He lies still as he can, but once Mason works his tongue inside him, just the way it makes him writhe, he gives in. Pretends this is normal, that he wants it, but he doesn't dare fantasize. He doesn't know what Mason would do if he said the wrong name. 

"You're bleeding." Mason comments, balls deep and moving slow. He doesn't stop, he wouldn't fucking stop if Erin was dying. "Not fucking anyone else are you?" 

"Fucked me dry yesterday, remember?" Erin mumbles. "Takes a few days to heal." 

"Oh right. That why you so out of it? Was I to rough?" 

"I'm okay." Erin forces a smile. "You'd never do anything I couldn't handle." 

Mason groans. "That's right, just let big brother handle everything."

How could he leave? No one would want him after this. 

"Okay." He whispers, like a child. He wonders if he'd given in years ago if things would have gotten better. Maybe they'll be better now. "I trust you, Mase." 

Mason smiles and suddenly he's the high school quarterback who everyone loved all over again. The brother Erin had liked. The one he missed. Mason kisses his forehead, not pausing. "That's right Erin, just fall into my arms. I'm always right, remember? Just doing what's best for you."

 


	3. How It All Began

Sammy Reyes flips the tabs on her suitcase, curly brown hair falling in waves down her shoulders, her strong nose combining with her angry eyes to make her fearsome in his eyes. Michael slowly rocks Mikey back and forth in his arms, and he loves the little girl who has his eyes and his soon to be ex-wife's hair so much that he'd make a go of it, if she'd let him, but Sammy's to far gone this time. 

She kisses Mickey's forehead, leaving a red lipstick print in her wake, and drops the divorce papers on the dresser. She stares at him for a moment. "You could have fought for me. For us." 

They both know it's to late. 

That's how Michael Reyes became a single father. But that's not how it began.

 

It began summer, junior year, when he was finishing up a run on the school field and he saw Samantha sunbathing. It was sharing his first beer with her, it was cheap drunk party games, and screwing on senior ditch day in the back of her beat up third hand camero. It began with youthful ignorance and a marriage that kept them both tethered together and kept them from growing. It made college hell, finding a school that offered a great law education for her and a criminology major for him, but she'd never asked him to fight for her. 

Until she did and he said no and seven years of marriage went down the toilet. 

 

Mason's grinning at him, like he does in the pictures on the mantle that their mother loves so much. She's out for the weekend, visiting friends in Florida. Mason drove in from the city just to watch him. Larger then life Mason, and him, alone. 

Erin isn't scared, and maybe that's his first mistake, because when he gets out of the shower that night Mason is waiting. And he doesn't get it, really, until he's on his back and the towel is being ripped away and he screams, but there's a belt in his mouth and his legs are being yanked apart. He screams into the leather, kicks and punches and scratches, but Mason just pins him and laughs. It takes him a while to work his way inside, it's dry, but when Erin starts bleeding it's easier. He fucks like a machine, hard and fast, and Erin skirts unconsciousness wishing he could fall in and failing miserably. That's where it begins. 

 

Or maybe it began when his mother died and he was seventeen and he went from being raped on the weekends to living in the same apartment as his rapist and what was he supposed to do? He was enrolled in school, had taken out all the student loans, didn't have time to work with his hectic schedule and even once it calmed down he couldn't convince himself to leave because he's seventeen and Mason puts a loaded gun in his mouth and makes him worship it and promises to kill him if he tries to leave. So he spreads his legs or his lips, obeys even if he can't quiet stop the litany of begging, the  _please_  and  _I'm sorry_  and  _I'll be better_  that never seem to help, only ever make it worse. That's where the breaking began, at least. 

 

Mikey likes to play with his hair. She puts butterfly clips and rainbow ties in his hair. Eventually she lays down for a nap and he goes to leave after painstakingly removing every sign he'd been there from his hair. Mr. Reyes stops him again. 

"Are you going to report him?" 

Erin shakes his head. "I can't." 

"You're a good kid. You don't deserve this." There's a note of maybe...begging in his tone. 

"It's coming up on nine years, Mr. Reyes. It's to late to save me. I get it if you don't want me around Mikey anymore. If you can keep her off my fire escape I can pretty much promise to leave her alone." Erin tamps down on the urge to shake. Mikey's all sunshine and flowers and kindness and some days he needs that. 

"Illegal or not, it's none of my business. Mikey likes you. Keep her away from Mason and out of your apartment and I don't mind. And when you decide you've had enough, I'll help you." 

"You can't save me, Mr. Reyes." Erin leaves, then, and he hopes the man got the message.

And if he jerks off that night, when Mason's done with him, and gasps something that sounds like Reyes but was quiet enough where even if Mason was standing outside the shower he wouldn't hear it, well, who can blame him. 

Nine years ago he'd have loved a hero. Six years ago he'd have jumped into Reyes's arms. 

 

_Nine Years Ago_

 

Michael slips the ring on Sammy's finger, kisses her cheek when she finally stops gasping. He saved up all summer for the ring. She loves him. He thinks he could love her, one day. They're eighteen and in love, finishing up college. He'll be nineteen soon. She's only been eighteen for a week. They've been together for three years. He can't imagine life without her anymore. 

 

Erin sobs into the bed, feels the blood and cum drying on his thighs. His jaw aches like a motherfucker from the belt. Mason's curled up against his back, half asleep. It's only eleven o'clock. Hopefully Mason stays asleep. He doesn't think he'll survive a second round. He wants to take a shower but he isn't sure he can move. Mason grumbles into the side of his neck and pulls him closer. "So pretty."

Erin whimpers. "No, please-"

"Shhh..." Mason kisses his cheek. "Turn over, baby, wanna fuck you face to face." 

"Mase, please, please, no! It hurts! I'm bleeding!" 

Mason smacks him in the mouth and flips him. "Shut up. Spread your fucking legs or I'll beat you. Trying to be nice and you've gotta fucking push." 

"I won't tell, please, I won't tell Mom, just stop-"

"Tell Mom what? That you're a little slut who got fucked by your brother? Ruin her fucking weekend. And you think she'll believe you? Over me? You've been ditching school and drinking and hanging out with the wrong people for years, Erin." Mason pulls his legs up onto his chin. Pink tinged cum drips out of his hole. "Speaking of, that ends. No more drinking and staying out past curfew and fighting. The only one allowed to leave bruises on you is me. Now, relax, and maybe you can cum this time." 

 

_Six Years Ago_

 

Michael Reyes stares down at the exam, wipes at sweat with his sleeve, and glances across the room towards Samantha. She's chewing on the end of her pencil, she catches his eye, smile, and returns to her paper. He glances at the clock. Nearly 3 PM. Exam ends in twenty minutes. He hurries to finish. 

Sammy meets him at his dorm room with a giant pizza from the pizzeria across town that they love and a bottle of vodka. She wears his favorite one piece of black lace lingerie and the same pair of black heels she wore on their first date. He's not sure it's love, really, even then but he knows Sammy is comfortable. She's strong. She can protect herself. 

 

At the same time, twenty minutes away, Erin Archer is standing in the doorway of his brother's apartment, still wearing the suit from the funeral. His face is red and puffy, his eyes are wet, and he's digging crescent moons into his palms with his nails. 

Mason pushes him inside and it feels like entering hell. He's seventeen and shaky and scared, feels like a lamb about to be slaughtered. 

"Fuck, I can't wait to peal you out of that suit." Mason groans in his ear. 

"Fuck you!" Erin slams his hands against his chest. Mason trips, backwards, smack into the door. "We just fucking buried mom and all you can think of is burying your cock in my ass! We're orphans! I'm, fuck, I'm seventeen and the only person I've ever kissed is my brother and my mom's dead and I can't even get you to think about something else for twenty fucking minutes!"  He starts crying again. His knees hit the carpet. "Fuck, Mase, haven't you fucked me enough for one fucking week?" 

Mason's on him a moment later, yanking and pulling his blazer off. He fights, for the first time in over a year. Mason punches him in the face and his head cracks against the floor. Mason's never punched him before. He's got no one to hide the bruises from now, so he's not surprised. That's all it takes for him to lay limp and be stripped. One hit. He's never been strong, but today felt like the day to fight. Like his mother would have wanted. God, why hadn't he told her? Why didn't he say something when custody was being handed off? 

Mason pulls him apart and spits, twice, on his asshole. It's insufficient lubrication, even with the dry finger pressed in to open him up a bit before thrusting in. It takes four hard, deep thrusts to bury him fully and by the end Erin is all out bawling. 

"Fuck you." Mason snarls into his neck. "Who pays the bills? Who buys the groceries? Who fucks your slutty little cunt until you cum, if you deserve it? Don't act like such a fucking ice queen. You like it. Look at you, rock hard and bleeding on my dick. Fucking pain slut."

Erin whimpers. "Who made me like this?"

Mason kisses him. "Me. I'll take responsibility. Fuck you how you like. And you'll earn it, my little housewife." 

**Author's Note:**

> This story may or may not be updated. What I have so far might be the end. I don't know. Erin may die, later, attempting to get away. Tags will change if I update.


End file.
